


Harry Potter and the life of an Imp assassin

by Xandra_Harris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hope, Humor, Life finds a way, Loss, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30086754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xandra_Harris/pseuds/Xandra_Harris
Summary: After a successful assassination job, I.M.P are celebrating when they are suddenly violently dragged into Hogwarts. It turns somebody's been keeping secrets. Somebody wasn't naturally born in Hell. Somebody is not A full blooded imp. Somebody used to be named Harry.
Relationships: Millie/Moxxie (Helluva Boss)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

Moxxie wasn't usually one for champagne and celebration, especially not in a work setting.

But this job had been so tedious, long-winded, and exhausting that he felt that the over casualness of champagne bottles in the usual space that was usually the conference room was appropriate.

The client for this particular job had requested the murder of an important government official of Yemen, the serial killer's grandson who had killed her. Already, offing an 'important' human was daunting, but she'd also requested his extensive and severe torture be recorded and that his flesh is kept intact so she could eat it. All in all, this woman was a nasty piece of work, but a client was a client.

Moxxie had been apprehensive at first, squeamish at the thought of such a long-winded death. Still, Millie had graciously provided newspaper articles exposing the target as a pedophile, and suddenly he had begun selecting the appropriate weapons for the job with relish. In any case, everything that could've gone wrong on the job had.

The complications had gotten to the point of being overwhelming, all their lives risked, and exposure of themselves as imps to the humans seemed eminent. But, somehow, as they usually did, they escaped by the skin of their teeth. And they all wanted to get drunk.

After his fifth gin and tonic, Blitzo had forgotten to keep the alcohol well away from Loona, which was a precaution he always took even though most kids in Hell started drinking at age twelve, and she was already well past that age.

So, with Blitzo in his careless drunk state, even the usually grumpy hound was acting strangely bubbly and well-disposed. Millie had ordered pizza and sweets, together with another crate of varying kinds of alcohol.

It never arrived, so she went to pick it up herself and almost got hit by a car on her way back. It was ten, and they were all swaying on the spot, giggling and smoking like they were teenagers.

At some point, a letter arrived for Blitzo. "Shshsh, everyone, come, listen, listen." He summoned them all to him and called for their attention. "It's from our cluh-eyent," he slurred. "'Dear Blitzy,'" he narrowed his eyes to read better. "'Thank you for your satisfying work.

His meat came right off like the burnt part of a marshmallow.' Bah!" He burst into laughter, and so did everyone along with him. In that inebriated, peaceful state, the company completely unsuspecting, they were suddenly sucked into a whirlpool.

They had all gone through portals to the living world multiple times, but none had been like this. Though they still had the distinct impression of passing through somewhere, of the change of air and scenery, of the difference between the living breath and the dying breath, it was not as painless and undisturbing as all their previous experiences had been, especially considering how unprepared they were for the change.

Passing through this new, strange portal, they felt their skin rearranged, pulled taut against their skulls, then snapped back to their original positions.

Their fingers and feet suddenly grew cold and rigid, like they'd been lying in a Russian waste for hours. The feeling of being pulled apart and rearranged was most predominant.

They didn't know who it'd been, but someone puked on the way, and the vomit hit everyone else in the face (they didn't even know, but it was Blitzo). Confusion and lividness were most predominant in their feelings, paired together with nausea and physical pain like steak and red wine. And where they landed did no good for their general sense of being dumbfounded.

They all plonked down on a massive wooden table. Blitzo, the letter from the satisfied client still crumpled in his hand, toppled over onto one of the dark wood benches, where children had begun screaming and moving apart so as not to be hit by the imp that'd suddenly rolled their way. Loona landed on her face, her nose starting to bleed like a cataract, and Millie, thankfully, landed in Moxxie's arms.

Moxxie himself felt he'd definitely gotten a concussion from how hard his head and neck had hit the table, and if it wasn't a concussion, then his skull had cracked like a massive, horned egg. The pain was intensified by the confusion and clamor of the situation.

The group was starting to be only vaguely aware of the chaos of the surroundings they'd landed into, and whether or not they had provoked, it was beyond them and not even something they questioned at that moment.

The Great Hall at Hogwarts had erupted into complete disorder since the imps' arrival. Bare seconds had passed, but the students all huddled against one another, already stacked together due to their company, but now even more so as they evaded the areas closest to the newcomers.

The professors sat rigidly and shocked in their seats, processing the name that had flickered up from the ancient goblet set before them and the sudden, violent arrival of red creatures into their school.

Such a thing should not have been able to occur in Hogwarts - there were so many air-tight spells and precautions that were supposed to make it secure, make it impenetrable. Especially to apparition. To the careful eye, however, it would've been plain to see that the creatures had not apparated, even though the portal had not been visible from the living side.

Alas, there they were, rubbing their fleshy heads with their crimson hands and recovering from the wounds they'd suffered. All were in a state of complete and utter confusion, the demons were not the exceptions. Some of the professors stood as if prepared to do something, but they hovered where they were like lost souls.

Finally, amid the chaos came a resounding, authoritative voice. "Silence!" The imps watched as an incredibly elderly, white-bearded man beside a massive structure thrust up his hands and, as if by magic, shifted the altered state of things into a frozen picture.

They themselves stood rigid and attentive, shaken by the profundity of the man's voice. Kids stopped where they'd been running, adults sat down, and the Helldwellers and wizards stared at one another sullenly.

The imps finally took in the appearance of their surroundings through alcohol-muddled sight. Their eyes ran from the children to the robes, to the weird sticks some of them were pointing in their direction.

They analyzed the funny pointed hat that the elderly man at the front was wearing and the fire-spitting goblet by his side. Funnily enough, they all had the same idea as to where they had landed: a cosplay convention.

A very intricate and rich (they thought, noticing the quality and antiquity of the Hall and how real the goblet and costumes looked), but a cosplay convention nonetheless.

Loona was the first to look up and notice the floating candles, the profundity, and complexity of the night sky sparkling above their heads. They all shifted their gaze to where Loona's eyes had gone.

Well, cosplayers could certainly afford to rent out a room at a castle to hold their convention, but they most definitely could not create something like what was on the ceiling. A flash of lightning burned across the sky.

Blitzo fainted, his head plopping to the stone ground, congratulatory letter drifting from his open palm.

This place was so distinctly alive that there was no way it was Hell, and certainly no way it could be heaven. This was incredibly human. But there was nothing mundane about it, nothing of the likes of what a human could create.

The old man with the white hair cleared his throat. "Is one of you, by any chance, Harry Potter?" He asked, his voice throaty and scratchy, unlike the one he'd used just moments before to impose himself upon what had to be hundreds of people.

Moxxie swallowed hard. Millie was shifting his gaze from him to Dumbledore, and it looked as though all the alcohol had been sucked clean from her system. Moxxie, too, felt horribly sober and present.

Loona was still incredibly drunk and most likely thought the alcohol had been laced with hallucinogenics, which was the explanation for all of this.

What was Moxxie supposed to do? Raise his hand like some kid in primary school? He also cleared his throat and sat upon the table, gently pushing Millie to the side and off him.

"Where are we?" He asked in the most stable, clear voice he could manage.

It came out crackly and scared. There was a generalized murmuring from the students all around them. The older man looked at them over his half-moon spectacles. "You are in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Moxxie felt like he'd been punched square in the face. Millie tugged on his arm and started hauling Blitzo up as best she could.

"I'm sure this is a misunderstanding, we're really sorry we interrupted your - Uhm…" she looked around, "ceremony. But we should be heading back, won't be bothering you no more." Loona neared them, her ears pulled back on her head, and slowly started helping them.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible," exclaimed a whiny, twitchy voice from behind the old man. It came from a middle-aged grump with grey hair and a mustache that was two hairs away from being very politically incorrect.

"That is, it is impossible if one of you is Harry Potter." He concluded, rubbing his fingers against his palm. "What does this matter to us? We're leaving." Moxxie said strongly, though he felt as if he'd been caught cheating in a final exam. Deep, generalized murmurs came from the crowds of students.

"The Goblet of Fire presents a binding contract. You must participate," he twitched as he spoke. "And just what in the name of Lucifer is a Goblet of Fire?" Millie spat her words mockingly, very near being enraged.

She kicked Blitzo's head, but he was out cold. In response to her question, the twitchy man neared the Goblet and looked up at it, almost admiringly. After some time looking down at the floor, deliberating, he finally spoke.

"Is one of you Harry Potter?" "No one here like that. Just let us go," Moxxie blurted. Millie looked up at him nervously. He didn't want to look at the twitchy man in the eyes, so he stooped down and started spastically searching Blitzo to see if he had Stolas' book on him. If he didn't, they were in deep shit.

"Because if you are," said the grey man, "the consequences for the breaking of the contract would be… most precarious for you." "What do you mean?" Millie asked, her voice trembling.

At his words, Moxxie searched even more frantically, as though he were patting a criminal down, looking for his drugs. "Is one of you Harry Potter?" The man in the white beard repeated softly.

Moxxie stopped. No book. No way home - no idea where they even were, not even the realm. "Yes," he finally admitted, quite silently. It was enough to be heard by every attentive ear in the large space.

The Great Hall erupted into an even greater commotion, much to Moxxie's dismay. Why were they looking for him so bad? He may have still been a little drunk, but he hadn't missed the words 'participation' and 'binding contract.' Who even were these people? He'd never had any interaction with them or whatever this place was.

Suppose this was a legal issue. Why the Hell was he in a school. A wizarding school? He wanted to deny to himself that he could have any real place here, but he knew he had certain qualities that other imps - Hell, other demons - didn't possess. He hadn't even been an original inhabitant of Hell.

He wasn't an actual, born imp. But a wizarding school? He would sooner believe Blitzo had snuck magic mushrooms in his gin than believe in any crazy crap like that. The man with the long, wispy beard and the careful eyes inclined his head to better look at him.

Over the clamor, he raised his hand, not needing to shout for a second time. As the children hushed down, he spoke once again. "Harry Potter, please come with me, along with the rest of the champions."


	2. Chapter 2

It was hard not to cave at the sound of the old man's voice. Moxxie could just tell he was wise - he had a long beard, spectacles, and the gaze of an old owl. How could he not succumb to the man's sheer, ancient power? It wasn't as though Moxxie was not used to following instructions or shutting his trap and carrying on with what he was supposed to be doing - but that was with Millie and Blitzo only.

He processed the man's request for only a second before his strange need to please him and simultaneously solve the situation for everyone else kicked in. Millie was looking at him with wild, questioning eyes. She wasn't sure what'd just happened - was he lying? Was he actually this Harry Potter guy?

She knew Moxx had a strange, particular past that he was always closed off about it, but was this really a part of it? What the hell had she married into? "I'm going to go, Millie," he told her, putting on his brave face. Millie blew up a stray strand of hair from her face, exasperated. Here he went with his goddamn hero complex again.

When would he understand that the majority of his personality was completely incompatible with his need to save the day, his inherent instinct to be the knight in shining armor? Sometimes the instinct worked splendidly, but sometimes he just fell on his ass and ended up humiliated and with a broken coccyx. "But- I- you-" she started, preparing herself to go off on a tangent.

It seemed only Moxxie was aware and intimidated by all the hundreds of sets of eyes on them, staring intently. He wondered what these weird, robed children thought of them. Millie was completely focused on the eruption she was about to have. Loona, meanwhile, had been stooping down and flicked the nearest child she could find on the forehead.

The kid started crying. "Loona, Jesus, don't touch it! We don't know what they are," Blitzo mumbled, waking up, still lying strewn and drowsy on the bench before them. Loona grumbled but pulled away, going back to where the imps were all huddled. Already, a teacher was rushing to the child. Moxxie rubbed at his temples.

"Moxxie!" Millie finally burst. The sound drilled into his skull. "Millie, I need to go, ok? They clearly just want me. I'll tell them to leave us alone, and then we can go." "You didn't sign any contract, either," Blitzo drooled. "Moxx," she huffed. Squaring her hands on her hips. "Mr. Potter!" The twitchy man urged.

"Yeah, yeah, he's going, Adolf," Blitzo picked himself up, falling down again a moment after. "I'll go with him, Millie, don't worry." "Why do you get to go with him?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. "I'm better suited at legal issues." With that, Blitzo grabbed Moxxie by the ear and dragged him to the stage of the Great Hall.

Moxxie looked behind him guiltily to see a very preoccupied and simultaneously pissed Millie. He had to imagine she wasn't too keen on splitting up, either, left alone in this swarm of strange, unknown people. She went closer to Loona and stood right beside her, looking warily around them.

Standing several inches shorter than the rest of the professors and without the tables' added height on which they'd been standing, both Moxxie and Blitzo felt far smaller in the massive room. Again, the thought that they were in a grand, mystic castle came over them. Moxxie looked at the slender, polished sticks all aimed at them. Wands. Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Being called by a name he hadn't heard in over two decades.

Is this what a life without having accidentally fallen into Hell would have been like? Is this what would've awaited him - strange, robed people, magic, fire-changing goblets and portals? It seemed that life never would've allowed him to escape the craziness, that he had always been doomed to a rollercoaster of insanity.

"Moxx, did you drug the alcohol?" Blitzo muttered to him as they walked, observed like serial killers entering a courtroom. "I was gonna ask you the same thing," he replied under his breath. When they reached the stage, the twitchy man's lip quivered. "Only Mr. Potter." "Sucks for you, porn-stache, I'm his legal advisor, and I have a right to be here." The man was clearly flustered and at his limit. It was obvious he was not used to being spoken to in such a manner.

During the exchange, Moxxie's gaze wandered over to the long table at the end of the hall, where some people, probably the professors or caretakers, were still seated. Most had gone over to the students, surely to comfort them or keep them safe. A creepy-looking man supported on a club-like cane was standing beside the table.

The man had wispy, ginger hair like Chucky and a waxy quality to his skin, scars riddling it left and right as if he had been pulled apart and sewn back together clumsily, some sort of Victorian monster emerged from the dead. The man was scary even by Moxxie's standards, and he was used to seeing all kinds of demons with contorted faces.

A single, glass eye rolled around his head, focusing briefly on Moxxie. His skin crawled. "I-" the twitchy man began. "It's alright, Mr. Crouch. Let him come." The ancient man said in his crooning voice. "Yeah, Mr. Crotch," Blitzo said smugly, following the ancient man as he exited the Hall and floated into a stone hallway. Mr. Crouch's upper lip twitched once again, but he followed the imps and the older man grudgingly.

Five other people followed closely behind, and from the corner of his eye, Moxxie could tell the creepy man was among them. He felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. He wished he had a weapon with him or at least all of his senses - but mostly, he wished he had information.

They had told him the name of the castle they were in, but where was it really? Judging by their accents, they were somewhere in Britain, but it couldn't be the normal world, the mundane human world they were used to infiltrating.

Blitzo didn't like it one bit either, completely flanked by these peculiar people, but he held his head and maintained his composure.

He was silently reassuring Moxxie, who, little by little, felt the confidence of his previous statements being chipped away. They wandered through empty hallways - clearly, the entire student body was concentrated into the Great Hall.

He wondered what Millie and Loona would do now, left utterly alone. He regretted not having pressed to have them both with him, and he wondered how Blitzo could be so calm leaving Loona by herself. He probably wasn't. The crowd stopped by a large, pale stone statue of what appeared to be a griffin. "Strawberry knock-pops," the ancient man uttered serenely.

The statue began to move. Moxxie shared a scared look with Blitzo - was it possible that this group of humans truly had access to magic? Was the magic harnessed by the same primordial forces that moved Hell, or did they have something completely of their own? When Harry had entered Hell, he assumed that the reality of the afterlife was the last secret of the world that he would unlock - but here he was, landed smack in the middle of a fantasy book.

They wound up a set of spiral stairs and entered a mystical, tidy office. It was filled with strange objects, objects Moxxie couldn't even fathom the use for. Inside, three teenagers were scattered, sitting on a beautiful plush couch or standing pensively before a fire. They all started at the odd sight of the imps. "What is the meaning of this?" Exclaimed a frighteningly tall woman behind them, sputtering in a thick, French accent.

She waltzed over to one of the teenagers, a good-looking blonde girl with a frightened expression on her face. "Professor Dumbledore, this… creature cannot possibly be Harry Potter. The Harry Potter," an elderly woman with a tall hat breathed, nearing the ancient, respectable man whose name appeared to be Dumbledore.

Dumbledore wasn't paying much mind to her as he hovered over what appeared to be a fancy sink, staring deep into it. "I'm afraid it is him, Professor McGonagall," he replied simply, his mind elsewhere. Moxxie wondered how his mind could possibly be elsewhere considering the madness of the present situation. Professor McGonagall huffed, exasperated. "He can't be! Just- just look at it!" She signaled in Moxxie's direction. "Why, it's not even human." "We won't take offense at that, Mrs. McGonagall," Blitzo cleared his throat. "But we share the sentiment.

If you would kindly let us go the way we came here, we would really appreciate it." "You cannot go," Mr. Crouch repeated, wringing his hands, "the Goblet of Fire presents a binding legal contract. "Oh yeah? And who exactly represents the magical Goblet in court? I'd gladly take its non-sentient ass to the law," Blitzo countered. "I'm afraid it does not work that way, Mr…?" "Blitzo. The 'o' is silent." "What 'o'?" "Thanks." "This is ridiculous," cut in a man with long, flimsy black hair and eaten yellow teeth.

He, like the French woman, had a thick accent. Probably Scandinavian. "Even if that… thing really is Harry Potter. This is the Triwizard tournament. There is no space for another." Dumbledore now turned and set the full force of his potent stare on Moxxie. "What name do you go by?" He asked calmly.

The room was silent around them. Clearly, the teenagers who had been inside when they entered were the most confused, as they hadn't witnessed the scene in the Great Hall. "Moxxie," he replied, ashamed at the weak crackle in his voice. "Would I be correct in assuming you have a human form, Moxxie?" Dumbledore asked, his kind eyes twinkling.

Moxxie was taken aback. It was clear to him that, out of all the people involved in the situation, this Dumbledore man was the most conscious of all of them - he clearly had knowledge of Hell, of the creatures living in it and, at the very least, a small understanding of their workings. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to pose such a question.

All the others watched, utterly perplexed at the scene. It seemed that the more things unfolded, the more unclear the situation appeared, the more questions arose. "Yes," Moxxie said. Staring Dumbledore straight in the eyes.

Despite all the other people in the room, he felt that the exchange between him and Dumbledore was a deeply personal one, as though they had a secret, unsaid understanding between one another. "Would you care to shift into it, now?" Moxxie cleared his throat and shut his eyes.

He was the only one aside from Loona capable of shifting into a human form - it had aroused some suspicion from Millie and Blitzo since he had never expressed his ability to do so the first time they'd seen him do it, and since it was a feat such a small amount of imps possessed, but he merely evaded their questions and answered that he had picked it up somewhere when he was very young. And, of course, he had picked it up when he was very young. He was born a human - and he'd never died.

Slowly, he felt himself melt into what'd once been his actual form, his normalcy, his reality. To other imps and demons, creating a human form was a daunting, sometimes impossible task - they had to shift their features into something that was alive, and they were dead as could be.

For them, it was the creation of something that had, perhaps, never existed, but to Moxxie, it was returning to his real nature, lifting a sort of curse and salvation given to him by the family that had rescued him, and restoring the lividity and oxygen into his limbs. He breathed deep as he felt the change that had begun coming over him.

Sometimes, when he was alone, he shifted back into his human form and stared at himself in a mirror to see how he had grown. It was like looking into an alternate reality and a small peek into what might've been. And yet, despite his initial shock when he had landed in Hell, he had never truly looked back, never truly craved his life as a human.

It had always seemed to him painfully ironic that he had found love and comfort, people who wanted him in Hell of all places and not in the human world. Up here, all he had ever found was rejection, pain, abuse - Hell was a respite from all of that, surprisingly. He had never had a choice on returning to the human world, but if he had had it, he never would've gone back.

The choice only came when he met Blitzo, who had gotten ahold of Stolas' book. But even then, he had never even been slightly tempted: he had Millie, he had his family - what would he have gone back to? There was no one in the human world that missed him or desired him. But who were all these people that needed him so badly now? That sought him out so feverishly?

He was no one, just a neglected orphan that no one looked twice at. And yet, here he was, requested as could be. Maybe he had a schizophrenic episode. A wave of gasps rippled through the humans as the change was completed. A taut silence fell over the room like a humid blanket, all the people staring goggle-eyed at Moxxie in disbelief.

These people were certainly magical, but it was plain to see they'd never witnessed something like this. They all took in Harry's tall figure, from his thin, pale arms to the shaggy, silky black hair. Their eyes all lingered on his forehead. Moxxie was aware of the lightning-shaped scar his human form bore, but could it be possible these people, these completely random, unknown people, knew about it? It seemed unlikely, but then again, the whole situation was unlikely, like it'd been ripped from an action-packed novel.

The silence was broken by an unfamiliar voice belonging to a man Harry hadn't spotted before - the man had been lurking in the dark corners of the office, becoming a shadow himself. "Fascinating," he remarked emotionlessly as he swept into view, his dark robes flowing behind him, the dark, curtain-like hair framing his face unflatteringly revealing equally dark eyes that drank Harry in greedily, almost with ire. He sauntered over to him without the slightest hesitation, whereas all the others had kept a respectful, frightening distance.

The man took Harry's head forcibly and parted his fringe, revealing the scar. The others stood by, shock upon shock falling upon them in layers like a tipsy-topsy cake. "It cannot be," professor McGonagall repeated, a veiny hand over her mouth.

The dark man looked straight into Harry's green eyes, and a powerful emotion set over his face, though Harry couldn't have said what it was. "It is true, then," Mr. Crouch said shakily. "You are Harry Potter." "Professor Dumbledore, we can't possibly allow him to compete. Harry Potter is… well, he's an adult! He cannot partake in a child's contest." "I agree, he must have many unfair advantages over the others.

He is a creature, besides! I do not care for his new look," the French woman shook her head. "Barty," Dumbledore looked severely at the twitchy man. "What do you think?" The man considered, looking hypnotically at the floor, deep in thought. After some time, he finally spoke. "The Goblet of Fire presents a binding legal contract," he repeated for what must've been the umpteenth time, "Harry Potter must compete in the Triwizard Tournament."

A wave of uproar replaced the previous silence, Blitzo among those who complained. "He won't be taking part in anything you crazy assholes are talking about - he didn't even sign any contract." "His name was entered into the Goblet, and he has been chosen.

He does not have a choice." "Whoever entered his name wasn't him! That can't be legal." "I'm afraid there is nothing to be done. If Harry Potter does not compete, the consequences would be… fatal." "Newsflash, nimrod, he's already dead!" "No, I'm not," Moxxie said under his breath, abashed. "What?" Blitzo's head snapped back to Moxxie, fire in his eyes. "I'm not dead, Blitzo." "So we are supposed to compete with an adult?" Interrupted a stocky teenager, also with a thick accent.

He was livid, puffing up his chest beside the other Scandinavian fellow. "This is outrageous," said the gigantic French woman, falling down on the couch and fanning herself with her hand. "Harry," Dumbledore now turned to Harry with the same penetrating gaze as before. "Do you know magic?" "Some," Harry replied. "What?!" Blitzo exclaimed, now completely livid. "If you do not participate, I don't know what may happen to you. These are… unprecedented circumstances.

I thoroughly encourage your cooperation if you do not wish to face dire consequences," Dumbledore told him intimately, staring at him over his half-moon spectacles. Harry swallowed hard. "Professor Dumbledore, if I may," cut in the dark man with the greasy hair. "I would be open to… instructing Mr. Potter. Analyzing his capabilities, perhaps." "Oh, no, you don't get him, Snape," the man with the wild eye suddenly spoke in a gruff voice, somehow managing to say 'Snape' as if it were an insult.

Even Blitzo had to respect the tone and power of the voice. "No one is getting Moxxie, alright? If anything, I own him," Blitzo shouted. "Stop, Blitzo. I think I need to do this," Moxxie said, taking him by the arm. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Moxx?" "It's clear you need some time for deliberation. Mr. Potter, Mr. Blitzo, would you care to discuss this with your other companions?" Dumbledore asked, already settling back to watch the sink. "Yes, I think we do," Blitzo spat, his nostrils flaring.

"Professor McGonagall, I trust the ladies who came with them have been taken to your office?" Professor McGonagall hesitated before replying. "Yes, sir. Would you care to follow me?" She addressed Blitzo and Moxxie and, not waiting for a response, left Dumbledore's office.

They followed after her, leaving a trail of watchful, cautious eyes on them, including the portraits.

**Author's Note:**

> Legal disclaimer I own either franchises that are being used in this story. This is purely a fan work for fun no money is being made. Please go support the official releases for both franchises.


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